Harbinger
by Scheherezade06
Summary: Outlander-scented CS (Lieutenant Swan) AU. While on her second honeymoon with her husband, Neal, Emma Cassidy falls through the screaming stones at Craigh na Dun and awakens in a strange world filled with fairy tale characters. Caught between two kingdoms on the brink of war, Emma must find a way to survive, even if that means making rather unlikely alliances.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: If you've read the Outlander books (or at least the first one), this will have some familiar events and dialogue in it. I'm pulling direct quotes and trying to imitate Diana Gabaldon's style as best I can.**

**If you have not read the books but are enjoying the new show on Starz, this story is going to move well ahead of the show and end up spoiling major events for you.**

**You have been warned!**

* * *

_People go missing all the time. Infant girls get left on the side of the road by their parents. Watch-thieves don't show up at the predetermined location. Criminals jump bail.  
Most of those people are found, and there is a good explanation about why they went missing.  
Usually._

_._

"Neal? Come to bed," I called, snuggling into the down-filled blankets. After years spent in sunny Tallahassee, Inverness in October seems particularly frigid.

"Just a minute, Ems," my husband replied. "I think I've found something…"

His voice trailed off as he flipped through the box of old papers and reports the priest had given him. He pulled a small leather-bound journal out and moved to the chair by the fire.

I sighed If he'd gone to the chair, he was certainly not coming to bed anytime soon. With a muffled curse, I curled up into a ball and shivered myself to sleep. I'd gotten used to sleeping alone while Neal was in prison. After five years apart, we'd become different people. The trip to Scotland had been pitched to me as a second honeymoon—a chance to get to know one another again, but Neal seemed obsessed with genealogy all of a sudden.

.

In the morning, Neal was immediately off to investigate some bit of lineage that apparently couldn't wait until after breakfast. I spent the meal with Mrs. Baird and then wandered the town on foot until tea time. Neal still hadn't returned to the bread and breakfast, so I took tea with Mrs. Baird, and she offered to read the leaves at the bottom of my cup. Finding them contradictory, she asked to see my hand. I snorted when she told me what my large thumb meant and blushed when she pointed out my generous mound of Venus. The rest of her readings seemed silly.

.

I was honestly surprised when Neal told me he wanted to go watch the witches.

"Witches?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, the vicar's housekeeper is one of them," he said, rubbing his hands together as though that news was somehow exciting.

I'd always thought of Neal as a down-to-earth guy, but since he'd gotten out of prison, it seemed like he was starting to believe the fairy tales he'd told me one drunken night when we were first dating.

.

Late that night—and it was Halloween, of course—I found myself creeping through bushes and shrubs to spy on a group of women dressed in bedsheets dancing in a ring of standing stones. We stayed until sunrise and made love in the heather before heading back into town. It wasn't until after supper that I realized my Swan necklace was gone.

I searched through our room and asked Mrs. Baird, but she hadn't seen it. Neal and I searched the car, and finally, I thought it must have come off during our romp near Craigh na Dun. Neal had plans with the vicar again, so I asked Mrs. Baird if I could borrow her car. She consented easily, and I drove myself back out into the highlands. My necklace wasn't to be found in bushes near the road where Neal and I had dallied, so I climbed the hill to the circle of stones.

They were humming.

I saw a flash of silver near the largest stone, the one with the cleft through the middle. Bending to fetch my necklace, I placed my hand on the stone.

The stone screamed.

I can't really describe what happened next. Nothing moved, and yet I felt as though I did. My vision blacked, and when I arose again, everything about me felt different.

I heard the sound of people fighting. Without thinking, I headed toward the sounds.

A group of people in some sort of costumes ran past, pursued by men in strange black armor. Had I wandered into some Halloween frivolity? Was there a Renaissance faire nearby? I pushed my way through the trees and ran directly into someone who'd been hiding so well, I would have gone right past him if he hadn't grabbed my arm. His other hand covered my mouth, and then he shoved me against a nearby embankment.

"Neal!" I said, but as soon as the name was past my lips, I realized my mistake. The man was too old to be my husband, though there was a strange resemblance, like they were related. "You're not Neal."

"Indeed, I'm not," the strange man said in mocking tone, his eyes roving over me.

"Who are you?" I demanded, my hands balling into fists.

"Who am I?" he asked as though the question was ridiculous and then giggled. "I might ask the same question, dearie, and with considerably more justification."

We stared at each other for a moment, weighing, measuring.

"Who the hell are you?" I asked again, meaning to sound confident but sounding frightened instead.

He grinned as though the idea of someone not knowing him was an exquisite novelty.

"I, dearie, am Rumpelstiltskin," he said in an amused, confident tone. He made an elaborate bow.

My internal lie detector didn't register, and that made my blood run cold. This madman seriously thought he was Rumpelstiltskin.

I broke and ran. I fled blindly, running hard, just trying to get away from the crazy person. A heavy rock struck me in the back, and I tripped, stumbling to the ground. The madman was on top of me in a moment, flipping me over to stare down at me indignantly.

"What the hell did you run for, dearie?" he demanded, looking of all things, perplexed.

"Get off me," I said, my voice shaking. I tried to squirm out from beneath him, but he held firm. He was significantly stronger than he looked.

"What's your name?" he asked slowly, enunciating each words as he narrowed his eyes at me.

A moment of panic seized me. Something deep in my gut told me that I couldn't let this man know my name. I struggled with the instinct, thinking it was strange, but I knew at least I could protect Neal if I didn't give my married name.

"Swan," I said, my voice surprisingly calm. "Emma Swan."

"_Emma_?" he said, recoiling as if I'd struck him. He scrambled off me and backed away, his face contorting in fear. His gaze travelled over me as I pulled myself up to my own feet.

He was so intent on me, he didn't see the large man step out of the trees behind him. The big guy cracked the creep across the head with a club of some kind and reached for me.

"This way," he said, grabbing my arm.

"And who the hell are _you_?" I demanded, but I let him pull me along. He'd come to my aid, after all, when he could have snuck past.

He had kind eyes. I wasn't expecting him to hit me with his club, too.

.

I came to with an aching head and vertigo. I felt like I was upside down and swaying. Opening my eyes, I saw that my internal gyroscope hadn't been malfunctioning. I was slung over Big Guy's shoulder as he carried me into an honesty-to-goodness thatch-roofed cottage.

What the actual—?

"What is it you have there, Little John?" a blue-eyed man said from somewhere inside the cottage. I tried to peer around my captor's hip, but he decided just then to set me on my feet.

"I'm not sure, Robin," the big man said. "But the Dark One was attacking her, so it seemed the right thing to rescue her."

The blue-eyed man nodded, and something clicked in my possibly concussed head.

"_Robin Hood_, seriously?" I said, "you've got to be kidding me."

My outburst seemed to amuse _Robin_, and he came around the table to get a closer look at me.

"You've heard of me," he said with a grin. "Then you have me at a disadvantage, Miss..?"

"Swan," I said, repeating what I'd told the older man, in case Little John had overheard. "Emma Swan."

"Miss Swan," he said, dipping his head politely. When he straightened up again, he gave me a serious look. "Are you a spy for the Dark One or the Evil Queen?"

"What?" I said, blinking in confused shock. "No."

"She could be lying," a weasel-faced man said from the other side of the room.

"She could be," Robin said. "but we can figure that out later. We must do something about Killian, first. He can't ride in his current state."

All eyes turned toward the hearth, and I noticed the young, dark-haired man sitting beside the fire for the first time. His shirt was torn, revealing a clearly dislocated left shoulder. I flinched reflexively. I'd had my own shoulder dislocated while working as a bail bondsperson, and I knew how uncomfortable it was. I'd had to help Neal set his once when we'd still be living on the streets, and it had been educational, but unpleasant. Later, I'd learned how to do it properly in a first aid and defense class I'd taken while Neal was in prison.

"We can't wait for a healer with so many black knights nearby," Robin said gently to the injured man. "We'll have to force it back in, Killian."

The dark-haired man lifted his head. His face was sheened with sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead over eyes even bluer that Robin's. His face was pale from the pain, but he managed a tiny smirk.

"Won't even buy me a drink first?" he said in a slightly shaking baritone.

Robin laughed and handed Killian a flask. The injured man uncapped the flask with his teeth and took a long pull. Then he nodded solemnly and handed the flask back to Robin. Robin nodded at a couple of the men in the room, and they approached Killian from different angles, preparing to hold him still and try to force the arm. The angle was wrong, though, and I knew from experience that they were just going to injure him further.

"Don't you dare do that!" I exclaimed, stepping forward. I knew I could have kept quiet, I might even have been able to slip outside while they were distracted, but I just couldn't let them hurt the man out of ignorance.

"What do you mean?" Robin said, his and all eyes, including Killian's turned to me.

"You'll break his arm if you do it like that," I snapped, stepping through them and crouching across from the injured man. "You have to get the bone lined up properly first, or you'll do more damage."

I took Killian's arm in my hands and gently moved it around until it was where it needed to be. He winced, but his eyes never left mine.

"This is the worst part," I said softly, getting ready to pop the ball of his humerus back into the socket.

He gave me a ghost of a smile.

"It can't hurt much worse than it does now, lass," he said bravely. "Get on with it, aye?"

I nodded and did what had to be done.

The bone reset with a loud pop, and Killian's face contorted in pain and then relief. His eyes hadn't left mine for the duration. He gave a huff of breath, his whole body sagging a degree.

"It doesn't hurt," he said, his eyes closing for a moment. He opened them and grinned at me before inspecting his shoulder with his other hand.

I started reciting care instructions for a recently dislocated shoulder as I made him a sling out of his ruined shirt. Killian continued to watch me with his impossibly blue eyes.

"Can you ride?" Robin asked Killian when I'd finished my speech.

"Aye," he said, nodding.

I was jostled away from Killian by some of the men who wanted to examine my handiwork for themselves. I took a moment to catch my breath and try to process what was going on. Rumpelstiltskin. Little John. Robin Hood. It didn't make any sense. If they were some kind of role-playing club, why wouldn't they have a medic or break character to tend to their injured friend?

I didn't get much time to think about it. The _merry men_ decided to take me with them, and I couldn't really complain, since my options seemed their rather friendly company or solitude in wherever the hell I was. They were travelling by horseback (_of course_) and didn't have an extra steed for me, so they put me in the saddle with Killian, since he was injured.

I watched him mount the horse with surprising grace considering his immobilized arm. Robin had given him a short cloak to wrap around his shoulders since his shirt was ruined. The heavy wool ended at his waist, so I had an excellent view of his muscular thighs and perky posterior as he swung up into the saddle. His trousers looked like they'd been as white as his ruined shirt at some point, but they were quite dirty now, stained and ripped in places, tucked into his knee-high black boots.

Robin helped me up to sit in front of Killian. The dark-haired man shifted behind me, making a soft _ooph_ before reaching around me with his good arm to take the reigns. We rode in silence for nearly an hour before it started to rain. The sudden downpour surprised me. Killian fidgeted again, pulling on his cloak.

"What are you doing?" I hissed. "You're going to hurt your shoulder worse!"

"I was trying to get my cloak around you, lass," he said, continuing to shift against my back. "It's surprisingly difficult to do one-handed."

"So now you're being a gentleman?" I muttered. Rain was dripping down the collar of my red leather jacket, but I was surely better protected than he was. "I'm fine."

"I'm always a gentleman," he murmured, continuing to tug on the material until it was draped around me as well as him. He pulled me tight against his chest so that no more water slid down the back of my neck. Rain rolled off the wool of the cloak in little rivulets, leaving us dry and very warm pressed together in our little cocoon. I hadn't known wool was waterproof.

.

We were riding near the front of the caravan, and as the rain thinned to a drizzly mist, I tilted my head back to look up at the narrow band of sky over the trail. I saw something strange in one of the trees, and I straightened up, peering into the foliage to see what the odd shape could be.

"What is it, lass?" Killian murmured, shifting against me when I moved.

"I'm not sure..." I muttered, scanning the trees and then the trail. There was a dark mass in the branches was near a place where a smaller tree had been knocked across the trail by the storm. A slightly muddy detour around the blockage would put us right underneath the… Oh. I gasped and turned my face to whisper to KIllian. "It's a trap!"

Killian sat up straighter, pressing firmly against me.

"Where?" he asked, and I pointed out what I'd seen. He made a little clucking noise at our horse, nudging it forward to where Robin was at the front of the group. He brought our black steed up alongside Robin's pale one and both men slowed their horses as they leaned together for a very brief conversation.

We were nearly to the fallen tree, and Robin made a kind of short whistle, using his hands to help shape the sound. Killian steered our mount roughly to the side and then shoved me unceremoniously into the bushes, hissing for me to keep quiet. I cursed under my breath as I rolled through the prickly branches to crouch at the base of a tree.

With me safely deposited, the ragtag group of riders surged forward, drawing swords and axes and crossbows. Black-clad men with silly plumes of feathers sticking out of their helmets met the riders, and the fight began in earnest. I watched long enough to verify that these were no role-players. Then I turned and ran.

It was instinct, really. I had nowhere to go. Some primitive lizard part of my brain had seen a man's throat slit and put my feet on autopilot. My breath came in great gulping sobs-hysterical, really. Breaking into a clearing with no idea of how long I'd been running, I dropped to my knees and just let my body shake as I tried to slow my breathing. I heard a twig snap and bolted upright, spinning to see what had caused the noise. I desperately wished I had some kind of weapon. I was decent at hand-to-hand fighting, but how could I defend against a sword or axe?

"Relax, lass, it's just me," Killian said, stepping into the clearing.

"That's what I was afraid of," I muttered, though I felt a surge of relief.

He approached me warily, making slow, deliberate movements, like he was soothing a spooked animal, which I suppose in a way he was. He stepped into a pool of light, and I saw the dark stain of blood across the tatters of his ruined shirt.

"You're hurt!" I exclaimed, eyes wide.

He laughed at that.

"It's not my blood, lass," he said with a grin, "well, not most of it."

"Oh," I said, swallowing hard.

"Robin and the others are waiting for us," he said, taking another step forward.

"What if I don't want to go with you?" I said as defiantly as I could. We were alone and he was injured. I could probably get away.

He seemed to be able to read me like an open book.

"You have no idea where you are, and these woods are full of black knights," he said in an almost diplomatic tone. "I think you're rather better off with us that on your own, lass."

I frowned at him.

He reached for me with his good hand, wiggling his fingers. I ignored it, so he hopped forward and grabbed my arm, tugging me as he turned and walked out of the clearing. He had a strong grip, but I knew I could break it if I really wanted to. With a sigh, I let him lead me back to the others, and then let them help me back onto the horse with Killian.

A flask was passed around, and Killian offered me some. I refused at first, but he reminded me that we'd along way to go before our next meal, and the booze would help us endure the ride. I took a long pull from the flask after that, making him grin when I didn't flinch at the taste of raw, harsh liquor of some kind. It tasted like paint thinner, but I took it without complaint. The alcohol did help me relax a little and let my tiredness loosen my limbs. Killian seemed tired, too, after the skirmish, and I could hardly wonder why. He'd certainly re-injured his shoulder. It would take longer to heal. He breathing became labored after another hour or so of riding, and then he began to lean, his whole body slowly going limp behind me.

"Stop. Stop!" I called. "He's going over!"

Killian slid off the horse head-first, but there were arms ready to catch him thanks to my warning. Little John laid him out on the wet grass near the path.

"Is he dead?" asked the weasel-faced man who'd accused me of lying.

I forced my way through the men who seemed to have no inclination of what to do. I knelt down and felt for a pulse.

"He's alive," I said. "I think he fainted."

I pulled his cloak back and saw that his tattered shirt was still wet with blood, meaning whatever wound he had was still open. I gently prodded him until I found the injury, a laceration along his ribs.

"He's losing blood," I said. "This wound needs to be disinfected and dressed."

"Disinfected?" one of the men said as if they'd never heard the word.

I stared at their blank expressions for a moment in shock.

"Disinfected," I repeated, enunciating clearly. "To clean out any germs."

"Germs?" Robin said, blinking thoughtfully.

"This isn't a game," I snapped. "He need an antiseptic and clean bandages. Maybe stitches. He needs to see a doctor!"

There was a moment of silence again, and then Robin spoke.

"I'm not sure where you've come from, Miss Swan," he said, "but we haven't got those things or the time to find them at present. We're a good five hours ride from a safe place. We can't linger here and risk the black knight patrols."

"Who the hell are the black knights?" I exclaimed, earning another moment of silence and some slack-jawed stares.

Robin held his hands up as if to soothe me.

"We can rest a moment and let you bind the wound, but that is all," he said. "If he can't ride…"

"I'd rather die clean than be taken by the black knights," Killian said.

I hadn't realized he'd woken up. His hand shifted to lay over mine where I was still touching his ribs. I frowned at him and started dressing the wound. I flushed it with whatever they called the beverage in their flasks, making Killian flinch.

"What is this supposed to be, anyway?" I asked him, shaking the flask at him before re-capping it and tossing it aside.

"It's rum," he said in a strained voice, "and a bloody waste of it."

I snorted at that and started ripping fabric from the hem of my shirt. It seemed the cleanest option.

"What sort of idiot gets himself knifed and doesn't even stop to take care of it?" I muttered as I worked. The anger helped me focus. "You're lucky you're not dead. Couldn't you tell how bad you were bleeding? Hold still."

He looked almost contrite, flinching as I drew the dressing tight around his waist. I let him drink some more of his so-called "rum" before Robin and I helped him back to his feet and into the saddle. I tried again to argue for staying put so Killian could rest, but my protests fell on deaf ears. Even the man himself seemed to disagree with me, so eventually I gave up, pulling the edges of his cloak around my shoulders so I could at least keep him warm in case he went into shock or something.

By comparison to the first half of it, the rest of the trip was surprisingly uneventful. We rode all night. When the first light of dawn peaked over the horizon, I got a glimpse of our destination: A tall, regal castle sitting on a cliff overlooking the ocean. The sight of it made my breath catch.

There were castles all over Scotland—I'd read the brochures. I'd looked through pictures and reviews of all of them in preparation for the trip, and the castle in front of me wasn't one of them. There wasn't anything like it in England, or Germany, or anywhere I'd ever heard of. Coupled with the strange things I'd already seen and the way my various captors had acted, there was only one conclusion I could draw.

I sure as hell wasn't in Kansas anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Not getting much love for this fic... I wonder if it's because it's in first person...**

**Oh, well, my muse is obsessed, so I'm gonna continue for a while and see what happens.**

* * *

When we finally stopped to rest, the castle was still a distant landmark, tall and proud and impossible. Exhausted and pained as he must have been, Killian seemed to notice my apprehension.

"You've nothing to fear, lass," he murmured against my neck, his words just slightly slurred. "King David is an honorable man, and we've crossed to his lands, now."

"King David," I said, fighting a hysterical giggle. "And what lands were we in before?"

"Why, the Evil Queen's, of course," he said as though everyone knew it.

"Of course," I muttered. I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. I took a few breaths to try to calm myself.

"Though, she does contest this area," he mused when I made no reply. "There's still the odd incursion of black knights, but the king's patrols keep them mostly in their place. We should be able to rest a bit."

Killian slid not-quite-gracefully from the saddle and then leaned against a short wall surrounding a pen of sheep. I stared down at him for a moment, still dumbstruck by the ridiculousness of my situation. After a minute of mute panic, I slid down, too, rubbing feeling back into my aching backside.

"Well, you made decent time," came a warm, deep voice, accompanied by slow, even footsteps across the yellowing grass. "Oh, who's the lass?"

I turned around to find what could only be Killlian's older brother approaching from the farm house. The resemblance was striking.

"Liam," Killian said drowsily, cracking open one eye to look at the newcomer before rolling his whole head to look at me without moving his eyes. "This is Emma Swan. Miss Swan, may I introduce my brother, Liam."

Killian closed his eyes again.

Liam dipped his head in a shallow bow.

"Miss Swan," he said politely.

"It's Missus," I blurted out before I could stop myself. I closed my eyes for a second and silently cursed the reflex I'd picked up while Neal was in prison. It had helped keep would-be suitors at bay.

"Oh?" Liam said, his eyebrows raising. One of Killian's eyes cracked open again for a moment as the two brothers examined me. "And where is Mr. Swan, then?"

"Gone," I said, my face crumpling. I felt a heavy weight settle on my chest. I'd been separated from Neal before, but this seemed different.

"A widow," Liam said quietly, not really asking me. "My condolences, Mrs. Swan."

"I… Thank you," I whispered, my breath hitching.

"Why don't you come into the house and have a rest, lass?" Liam said.

My eyes went to Killian, who was still slumped against the low stone barrier. He lifted an eyelid again and nodded at me. Liam was already making his way back to the home, clearly content to leave his brother lying in the yard.

I followed the tall man up to the farm house. Inside, Robin and his men were already making themselves at home. I was introduced to a pretty brunette woman who turned out to be called Marian (_of course_) and her son Roland, a black-haired woman called Mulan (I had to bite down hard on my tongue), and some other people who either weren't story book characters or were from tales I hadn't read. I let Marian lead me upstairs to an attic bedroom and gratefully climbed into the bed.

.

In the morning, I was apparently still in Story Book Land. I awoke to Marian knocking on the door and announcing herself before coming into the room with her arms piled with cloth. I parted with my jeans and blouse reluctantly, realizing that I probably stuck out as badly as one of them would in the real world. Marian let me keep my boots, and I guess she'd sensed I would fight over it, because she had her little urchin steal my jacket while she was lacing my new corset.

I felt ridiculous in the dress, but it seemed to go over well with the male residents, based on the looks I got when I came down the stairs for breakfast. Killian in particular seemed impressed, though I couldn't say why I was so pleased with his slack-jawed ogling. I shouldn't care what any of them thought about my looks.

Breakfast was a simple affair. Eggs, ham steak, apples and boiled onions. I ate heartily, hungry after a day without food. When the meal was done, Marian gave a tour of the farm, her little boy bobbing along behind us as we walked past chicken coops and pig pens, fields and a large garden. There, she put me to work weeding as she checked through for items ready for picking. She filled a basket with ready vegetables and herbs, keeping up a steady chatter of simple, innocuous conversation.

I got the clear impression that she was keeping me away from the house while the menfolk decided my fate.

We made it back to the house around noon, and I did my best to help with making lunch. Neal had always been the one who cooked at home. I'd been the queen of take-out while he was in jail. But I peeled potatoes and chopped carrots and whatever else was asked of me. These people were feeding and clothing me without knowing a thing about me, so I figured the least I could do was shuck corn and snap beans.

After lunch, I snuck away from my well-meaning gaoler and followed the blue-eyed brothers up and over a small hill to a pretty little stream. They noticed me right away, one or the other glancing over his shoulder to check to see if I was still following as they tromped along. They seemed content to allow my presence, but weren't apparently overly worried about entertaining me.

I watched as they checked traps, tossing crabs and crayfish into their buckets or back into the river. Then Liam began fly-fishing, while Killian sat on the rocks, tying lures. He caught my eye and gestured with his head, as if silently inviting me over. I felt Liam's gaze on me as I moved to sit next to his younger brother.

Killian set me to work untangling fishing line and separating feathers and other flashy bits for lures. I worked without complaint. Growing up in orphanages and foster homes had given me a solid appreciation for people who were genuinely welcoming. I was happy to help out how I could in payment of their hospitality.

The brothers made small talk while they fished, mostly bantering about skill (though in Killian's case, it was all talk, since he was injured and couldn't prove otherwise). Liam caught Killian up on local gossip, but I didn't really care about how many piglets the sow had or if the still was almost complete. Any time the conversation turned remotely serious, one of the men would look at me, and then they'd change the subject.

Once the buckets were full of squirming, splashing river creatures, the brothers reset their traps and lead me back to the house. I helped with dinner, tending mostly to the vegetables again, since I had no skill or interest in cleaning fish. After the meal, Marian escorted me back to the attic, and I climbed into bed.

And the pattern repeated itself for four days.

I kept myself busy and tried to keep my head down. I knew that my hosts were still deciding what to do with me. I'd overheard enough talk in the house to figure out that the kingdom was more or less at war with its neighbor. Some of the locals seemed to think I must be a spy. I was certainly keeping secrets, which I'm sure didn't help. But I didn't know enough about the world to lie when they asked me questions like, "where are you from?" so I stayed silent. I overheard one of the men one day say they'd sent someone up to the castle, though I wasn't sure if that had anything to do with me.

I spent most of my time with Marian or Killian. Mornings in the gardens, afternoons by the stream, my days started to have a pattern to them that made me feel more comfortable.

On the third day, Killian approached me after lunch.

"Lass," he said by way of greeting. "Will you help me with the buckets? Liam has some business and I'm not sure I can manage them one-handed."

I nodded my assent and took up one of the long poles with little ridges at either end for buckets. Once we were at the stream, he showed me how to check and empty the basket traps. We took some of the small crayfish and crabs for bait, large ones went in the buckets, and those between were thrown back into the river. We set static fishing lines on bobbers, since I didn't know how to fly-fish at all, let alone without a reel, and Killian wasn't well enough to do it on his own.

"How do you feel?" I asked him.

He gave me a little grin.

"Like I had my ribs sliced," he said.

"How's the healing?" I asked, curious about potential infection. "Can I see?"

He inhaled sharply at my request, but nodded, carefully unbuttoning his shirt. He tugged it a little clumsily down his shoulder, and I caught a little flash of white as I tried to help. He didn't flinch away from my touch so much as freeze under it, and when I realized what the white streak was, I froze, too. I couldn't help but rise up and scoot around him to follow the line of shiny scar tissue that started on his shoulder and continued into a criss-crossed pattern that disappeared beneath his shirt. He offered no resistance when I tugged the fabric down to reveal the extent of the damage.

As a girl, I'd once shared a room with a girl who'd been brutally caned. I'd seen her scars each time she changed, though she always hid them when she was in public. The man who'd caned my roommate had been sent to prison.

Killian's scars were different, but there were similarities, too, so I could imagine what had caused them. He shivered under my touch, and I knew it was probably rude, but I couldn't stop my fingers from tracing the marks on his back. He allowed my exploration, making no comment, though his breathing seemed to have sped up. When I finished my inventory of his back, I moved around to examine the wound on his ribs. It looked much better in the light of day than it had swollen and bleeding on the side of the road. There didn't seem to be any signs of infection. The skin wasn't angry or hot, and the wound was sealing back together without needing stitches. His shoulder was swollen, but not overly so, and the bruises were already fading. The thin strip of one of his back scars peeked over his shoulder, a pale line cutting through the darker spots.

"Who—" I said, my finger on the silvery line. I clicked my teeth together before I could ask the rest of the question.

"The flogging, I assume?" he said lightly. "I didn't stop to get the name of the black knight that slashed my ribs, I'm afraid, and the shoulder I managed to do on my own."

I chuffed softly and he took my hand off his shoulder, folding my fingers in his.

"I heard you met the man who painted my back," he said carefully. "The Dark One himself. Rumpelstiltskin."

I shuddered at the name and Killian drew me closer to him, misunderstanding my reaction. It wasn't fear that caused the shaking, really, just a visceral denial at the idea that the man could really be the fairy tale imp. I'd seen the resemblance myself, and damn it all if Neal hadn't told me years ago that his father had been Rumpelstiltskin. We'd both been drunk, and I hadn't believed him, but in that moment beside the stream, it felt real, and it made me crack.

Killian's arms tightened around me and he scooted forward to bring me even closer to him, until I was basically sitting in his lap. It felt oddly _right_, so I let Killian crush me against his chest, and I leaned against him, taking a rare moment to be vulnerable.

"Your… husband," Killian said softly. "You were thinking of him?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

"Was it Rumpelstiltskin that killed him?" he asked, and I couldn't think of anything to say that would make sense, so I just nodded to that, too.

"I'm sorry, lass," he said into my hair, rocking me gently.

I pressed my cheek to the fur of his chest and let the tears come. I hadn't felt helpless in a long time. Not when I was on the streets, not when I was alone and Neal was in prison, but in that moment, I felt completely alone and out of my element. The only thing that seemed real was Killian's warm embrace, so I clung to him and let myself fall to pieces.

He held me tight, murmuring soothing words and stroking my hair and back. He allowed me to cry until I was gently hiccuping and sighing in his arms.

With my cheek pressed to Killian's chest, I could hear his heart, steady and strong. As my sniffles ebbed and my breathing evened, his pulse accelerated with each puff of my hot breath against his skin. I soon had very clear evidence that Killian enjoyed having me in his arms.

He offered no resistance when I pulled away, though I saw he was blushing. Even the tips of his ears were bright red. He cleared his throat and turned away.

I found it strangely endearing.

.

Liam was still gone the following day, so I accompanied Killian out to the stream again. He insisted on trying to show me how to fly-fish, despite my protests, and I found myself standing in the river with my skirts hiked up and Killian standing very close behind me, his good arm guiding mine as I tried to cast the line into the water without the aid of a reel. I didn't manage to catch anything, but I spent the afternoon laughing and cursing with a rather attractive young man, so it seemed like a good trade. I began to feel a sense of belonging. I still wanted to get back home, but I didn't feel quite as much of an outsider while I was being helpful on the farm.

On the morning of the fifth day, Liam returned, riding like hell out of the woods and up over the hill. I rose from where I'd been squatting in the garden and watched as he slid down from his mount, barely giving the stable boy a second glance before striding across the lawn to the house. After a tense, quiet lunch with the notable absence on two blue-eyed brothers, Liam had someone fetch me to a small study on the second floor of the farm house. He was seated at the desk when I arrived, and I was uncomfortably reminded of what I'd felt when I'd been young and sent to the principal's office. As I entered the room and he frowned at me.

"Please sit… Mrs. Swan," he said, gesturing to a chair opposite the desk.

"I think I'd rather stand," I replied, feeling fidgety and wound-up by his demeanor.

He frowned again but nodded, scratching his beard for a moment.

"Are you from Regina's kingdom, Emma?" he asked in a quiet tone.

I sighed and rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I already told you I'm not," I said huffily.

"Then where are you from?" he pressed, his expression staying open.

I sighed in frustration.

"I can't explain it, okay?" I said. "I don't know how I got here, but I'm from somewhere far away."

He grimaced at me in clear frustration.

"Do you have anything to prove that you are not from Regina's kingdom?" he asked.

"Like what?" I said.

"Papers, a signet?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked at me as though he were concerned for my safety.

"No," I said.

Liam's shoulders slumped as he say back.

"What's going on?" I asked, taking a step toward the desk.

"Rumpelstiltskin has claimed you are one of Regina's subjects and demanded your return by the turn of the moon or he says they are prepared to invade David's lands and take you by force," he said in a low, even voice.

"What?" I hissed.

"If you cannot prove his claim is false, then we have no choice," Liam said. "Regina's kingdom is a sovereign country. There are treaties that must be enforced to maintain the strained peace between our realms."

I stared at him with my jaw dropped open for a moment before I found my voice.

"So, you're just going to hand me over, then?" I asked darkly, fighting the familiar tendril of abandonment and betrayal that I thought I'd long-since buried deep.

"Of course not," he said at once, making a dismissive gesture. "I had just hoped there might be a simpler solution than…"

"A simpler solution than what?" I asked warily.

Liam licked his lips as he eyed me from head to toe.

"There is a way to make you an official subject of this kingdom and shelter you in King David's protection," he said carefully.

I could feel the other shoe hanging in the rafters, waiting to be dropped.

"Yeah," I said after a moment, "what's that?"

"You'll need to marry a local resident," he said, and I felt my spine go stiff.

"No," I said at once.

Liam frowned, and then he forced his face back into a neutral expression.

"The choice is yours, I suppose," he said. "Either you marry and become a servant of this nation's crown, or I must present you to the black knights in five day's time to prevent war. Mark my words, Emma Swan, I will deliver either you or a license proclaiming your marriage. Your choice."

I shook my head.

It was ridiculous.

"And just who would I be marrying?" I demanded, reaching for anger to wrap myself in. "_You_?"

"Of course not," he said again, scoffing at me.

"Then who?" I shot back, leaning forward.

"My brother, Killian," he said.

My jaw dropped again. The younger man's shy smile came easily to my mind. If it had to happen, then—

"But I don't want to get married!" I protested, banishing confusing thoughts. "And what about Killian? Have you even asked him what he thinks about this whole debacle?"

"Killian will do what's he's told," Liam declared. "And so will you, unless you'd prefer to be sent to the Dark One."

I couldn't believe what he was saying. I stared at him, speechless again for another moment.

"I want to talk to him," I choked out finally.

"Of course," Liam said, blinking. He nodded his head in a way that made me think he was certain I'd decided to go along with this ridiculous charade. "He's waiting for you by the river."

Liam waved me off and turned to begin reading through a stack of papers. I stared at him for a long moment before spinning around and mechanically putting one foot in front of the other, stumbling down the stairs and across the lawn. I walked without really thinking about anything until I found myself cresting the hill that separated the farm from the little stream.

Killian looked up as I tromped my way toward him.

"Did you know that your brother wants us to get married?" I demanded bluntly.

"Aye," he said, looking down for a moment. "I know that."

He seemed so calm.

"Come on," I said, "a man like you… I mean, isn't there someone else you're, uh, interested in?"

He looked blank for a moment.

"No," he said simply. "I haven't much to offer a lass, so there haven't been many who've expressed interest in me."

He smiled self-deprecatingly.

I stared at him in absolute shock.

"You don't have any objections?" I asked when I finally found my voice.

"Why should I?" he said with a half shrug. "I know the reasons for it. It seems an amenable solution to the problem at hand."

I opened and closed my mouth for a moment. I was sure I must look like a fish.

"Does it bother you that I'm not a virgin?" I blurted out, grasping at straws.

"Well, no," he said, his ears tinting pink again, "as long as it doesn't bother you that I am."

He grinned when my jaw fell open.

"I suppose at least one of us should know what we're doing," he said, managing a wink despite the color on his cheeks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Thank you guys so much for the encouragement, and for reminding me to tag characters (I has a dumb)... **

**As ever, OUTLANDER SPOILERS. This chapter brings us up to what is going to happen in episode six of the Starz show. =) **

**.**

Liam had the papers in order by nightfall, and Killian and I dutifully signed. As I watched him write his name, entranced by the little hooked flourishes he added to his beautiful signature, I realized I hadn't been told what my new last name would be.

"Jones," I said thoughtfully, reading it aloud as he finished the S.

His head snapped up as he looked at me, and he seemed to realize I hadn't known it.

"Aye," he said, still looking surprised.

"Well," I said, not really sure what to say.

"Killian Jones," he said, holding my eyes. His were so very, very blue.

What had I gotten myself into?

"So," I said, shaking my head to clear my thoughts, "when's the wedding?"

"Tomorrow," Liam said. His eyes flicked to Killian for a moment. "There are some things that need to be done in preparation."

I raised an eyebrow, but neither brother elaborated.

Later that night, I was surprised that I had no trouble sleeping. As I climbed the creaking stairs to the attic room, I was sure I'd spent the night staring at the ceiling and listening to the softly muffled conversations and movements of the people on the floor below. But I found a sealed bottle of wine leaned against the door frame when I arrived. I didn't know or care who'd left the present. I uncorked it gratefully and drained half the bottle in one go. Once the surprisingly strong alcohol warmed my bones, I closed my eyes and drifted off as if I didn't have a care in the world.

.

I was having a rather nice dream, something to do with chasing down a bail-jumper and thumping his skull, when I realized that what I had thought was the perp's feeble grip on my arm was actually someone shaking me awake. I sat up with a jerk, blindly flailing.

When I got my eyes open, I found far too many people crowded into the tiny room. Marian and Robin and Liam were there, along with a heavyset woman with a sour expression holding a wicker basket. She, it turned out, was a local seamstress, and she'd been tasked with making sure my (probably) ill-gotten wedding dress fit correctly.

The dress itself was all shimmering silk and layer upon layer of skirts (I didn't ask where they'd gotten it. I assumed I didn't want to know). It didn't require much alteration, though I was given a strange band of silver roses capped with a crown of feathers on each of my upper arms. Beyond that, my arms were bare. The bodice of the gown nipped in tight, decorated with silver embroidery that edged the narrow straps, the dipping neckline, and then trailed off down to the voluminous skirts, which were made of layer after layer of gauzy, semi-transparent fabric.

Marian pulled my hair up and back into a soft, feminine bun, leaving tendrils to fall prettily to my shoulders and down the back of my neck. She added little white flowers here and there, giving me the hint of a tiara made of daisies.

Standing in front of the looking glass, I couldn't deny the woman had done their job well, but my throat looked particularly naked without the swan pendant Neal had given me so many years before. My stomach turned when I remembered finding it in the circle of stones. My fingers had just closed around it when I fell through the cleft in the rock and awoke in fairytale land. I wondered if it had come through with me or if Neal would find it (had found it?) when he looked for me.

"You can't make me do this," I whispered to Liam as he led me down the stairs. We both knew my words were empty bravado.

Silence fell in the main room when we arrived, and the looks of open admiration made me smirk with pride. I didn't see Killian, and I wondered if storybook land shared my world's custom of the bridal couple not seeing one another before the ceremony.

Or maybe he'd escaped.

Neither proved to be true as the front door opened, letting in the late morning sun and the striking figure of Killian Jones. He was wearing what looking like an antique (in my world, anyway) military uniform, all high collars and shiny buttons. The coat was navy blue, with a gold collar and simple shoulder-strap epaulets. The jacket cropped sharply at his waist and was left open, revealing a snow-white waistcoat snugly buttoned over a blue cravat with the hint of a white shirt beneath. His pants were also impossibly white, resembling the faded, torn pants I'd seen him in before, but these were new and clean, though they didn't seem to fit him quite as well as the previous pair. The pants were tucked into his tall, black boots, which had been painstakingly shined. A cutlass hanging from his black leather belt completed the look, and he had a jaunty, feathered hat tucked under his arm. His hair had been washed and brushed, and there was a new blue ribbon tying it back into a neat queue.

To say my breath caught would be an understatement. I think I forgot how to breathe entirely as he stepped through the threshold and made a precise, formal bow before me.

"At your service, my lady," he said as he stood up. I could tell by the hint of a smirk he wore that he had some idea of the effect he was having on me. He looked quite pleased with himself.

"Oh," was all I could manage.

He stepped forward again, coming close enough for the edge of my skirts to hide the toes of his boots. Holding my gaze, he pulled something white from within his coat and leaned forward to fasten the necklace around my neck. Looking down, I saw it was a string of irregular, freshwater pearls interspaced with silver beads. I felt a pang, thinking again of the necklace from Neal that I'd lost, but I couldn't deny the new one was pretty, and it was a sweet gesture.

"They look lovely on you," he said softly, hesitating before he added, "Emma."

His finger slid along the necklace, carefully touching only it and not me, then he stepped back.

"Those were our mother's pearls," Liam said in a gruff voice, as though he didn't approve.

"And now they're my wife's," Killian said calmly, giving his brother a level stare. "Shall we go?"

.

Wherever we were going, it was some distance away from the farm. We made a rather odd-looking wedding party with the bridal pair encircled by the others like convicts being escorted to some distant prison. The groom and I kept stealing glances at one another, looking away pointedly when we made eye-contact. The only conversation was his apology for being late while he put together his uniform. The coat, hat, and waistcoat were his own, saved in a chest somewhere in the farmhouse, but he'd had to go off and find new trousers and a shirt, and white pants weren't apparently popular with farmers or villagers. The ones he was wearing had been supplied by his brother, which explained the poor fit.

We dismounted and left the horses at the foot of a small hill. We climbed the hill in silence and found a curly-headed, red-haired man in wire spectacles waiting for us beneath a wide willow tree. Someone had hung ribbons and streamers from the branches of the tree and studded flowers among them, making a rather festive bower. Once we were all within the canopy of swaying limbs, Killian and I were maneuvered to stand before the red-haired man near the trunk of the willow.

Killian took my hands in his, and I was surprised to find his fingers cold. It occurred to me for the first time that despite his outwardly calm demeanor, he might be as nervous as I was. I looked up at him and found him staring at me with a carefully neutral expression, betrayed only slightly by the tightness around his eyes. I tried to smile at him, but only managed to make my lips wobble. He squeezed my fingers in response. I got the impression that we were holding each other up; if either of us let go or looked away, we would both fall down. It was strangely reassuring. Whatever we were in for, at least we weren't alone.

The officiant had said something, and Killian licked his lips before speaking:

"I take thee, Emma, to be my wife…"

His voice did not shake, but his hands did. I tightened my grip.

"...to love, honor, and protect… for better and for worse…"

The words came from far away, and I felt the blood drain from my head. The boning of my bodice was infernally tight, and though I felt cold, I felt sweat pooling between my shoulder blades and running down my sides. I hoped I wouldn't faint.

And then it was my turn.

"I take thee, K-Killian..." I stammered. I paused and took a breath. He'd made it through well enough, I could try to do as well. "...to have and to hold, from this day forth…"

My voice became stronger as I went, the words coming more easily.

"...'Til death do us part."

The words rang out in the little well of the tree, and I felt proud of myself for managing them all. There was a moment of silence, and then the red-haired man asked for the ring.

A murmur passed through the crowd, and it seemed like no one had thought about this portion of the ceremony before that moment. Then Killian released my hands long enough to twist a ring off his own finger.

I still wore Neal's ring on my left hand. The fingers of my right hand looked frozen and pale in the shadow of the tree. Killian slipped his too-large ring, heavy and gold, onto the fourth finger of my right hand. It would have slid off if Killian hadn't immediately curled my fingers around it and folded my hand between his.

There was more talk from the officiant, and then Killian bent to kiss me. I was lost in his blue eyes as he slowly descended toward me, his expression a strange mix of apology and anticipation. I knew he intended to make a brief, ceremonial touch of his lips to mine, but when his gaze flicked down to my mouth, I instinctively moved toward him. I let my eyes flutter closed and pressed my lips to his, finding them soft and warm. Clutching his coat's lapels, I lost myself in the kiss, feeling safe, and whole, and _good_. I vaguely heard the appreciative and encouraging calls and whistles from the crowd, but I paid them no mind.

When we finally pulled back, touching foreheads for a moment before I let my heels find the earth again, I saw his cheeks and ears tinted pink. I gave him a shy smile, and he returned it, looking deliciously flustered. I watched in mild confusion as he pulled his hands away from mine and drew his dagger. Liam took the blade from his brother, which didn't seem to surprise Killian. Instead, the younger man held up his right hand, palm facing the sky. Liam made a quick, neat slice across Killian's wrist, making me gasp in shock. I didn't have time to properly protest, however, before my own hand was seized and Liam made a cut along my right wrist as well. Liam and the officiant pressed Killian's and my wrists together so that the wounds touched, and then our arms were bound together with a strip of white cloth.

Killian took my elbow with his free left hand, holding me steady.

"Just a bit more," he said, catching my eyes and giving me an encouraging little nod. "Repeat after me?"

I returned the nod, bewildered.

He said the words, and I repeated them, feeling the old poetry in the simple verse:

_"Blood of my blood, bone of my bone._

_I give you my body, that two might be one._

_I give you my spirit, 'til our life shall be done." _

The strip of cloth was untied, our arms were wiped clean, and we were married.

There was an air of relief and exhilaration among our party as we made our way down the hill. We were nearly at the bottom when the fact that I'd eaten nothing all day, the remnants of my hangover, the damn corset, and the stress of the day caught up with me and turned my vision black. I dimly heard Killian say my name in a slightly panicked voice before the roaring in my ears swallowed up everything.

.

I came to lying in the damp leaves with my head in my new husband's lap. He set aside a wet cloth that he'd been using to stroke my face.

"That bad, was it?" he said with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. He looked utterly uncertain, and it made me think of all the times I'd been unwanted as a child.

"It's not you," I assured him, taking his hand. "I just haven't had anything to eat since lunch yesterday, and this stupid corset…"

His smile warmed, which made me feel better. I pushed myself up to a sitting position, wincing when I remembered the wound on my wrist. It had come open when I fell, so I took the damp rag from him and dabbed the cut with it, cleaning up the new smear of blood.

"I thought that might have been what made you faint," he said quietly. "I should have warned you. It didn't occur to me."

"What was it, exactly?" I asked.

"It's…" he hesitated, frowning for a moment. "It's a blood vow—an old custom, no longer common in this realm, but it was always done in my family…"

He trailed off and gave a little shrug, looking down. He wasn't lying, but I could tell there was something he was holding back.

"It's okay," I said, feeling his discomfort. It seemed somehow right that he should have secrets of his own. I was certainly keeping things from him. I looked around, surprised to find us alone on the path. "Where is everyone?"

He looked bashful for a moment.

"I made them go away so I could tend to you," he said. "They're just down the path. They won't leave us completely alone until everything is official."

"What?" I said, my brow furrowing, "but we're married now."

"Aye…" he said, his ears going pink again, "but it's not legally binding until… until it's been consummated."

My jaw fell open.

"Oh," I said, feeling a little lightheaded again. "Let's go find something to eat."


	4. Chapter 4

Food was abundant when we returned to the farmhouse. A modest bridal feast had been prepared, including fragrant loaves of fresh bread, a recently slaughtered and roasted beast of some kind, and lots and lots of glorious, wonderful wine.

I was toasted again and again, until I was more than a little tipsy. I sobered quickly when Liam took his turn in giving me a welcoming hug and whispered in my ear:

"I want this marriage properly consummated. There can't be any room for an annulment, or the Dark One will have all our hides."

"Mine especially," I said between gritted teeth.

"Exactly," he said. "Do your part. The lad won't give you any trouble."

I couldn't help but snort at that.

Letting go of me, Liam embraced his brother, and by the look on Killian's face, my groom was also receiving orders.

.

How the hell had this happened?

Within the span of a week, I'd gone from vacationing with my husband, trying to reconnect after his time in jail to… whatever the hell it was I was doing now.

Sitting on a bed, I supposed.

When the gathering of celebrants had decided we'd been feasted enough, the womenfolk had gathered me up and bustled me up to my little attic room, freshening up my hair and face and making sure the room was prepared. They'd left me, finally, with giggles and knowing glances and one young woman's sighing confession of her jealousy of my situation.

I'd almost punched her in the face.

But then they were gone and I was left alone to await the arrival of my new husband, who I barely knew, with firm orders to consummate a forced marriage, at risk of my life and liberty.

I _really_ wanted to punch someone in the face.

There was a faint sound as the door swung open and then shut. Killian leaned against the door, watching me. The air of embarrassment between us deepened. It was Killian who broke the silence finally.

"You have no reason to fear me, love," he said, using the endearment for the first time. I guess he thought he was allowed, since I was his wife and all. "I won't be jumping on top of you."

I couldn't help the amused snort and grin that bubbled up at his comment.

"I didn't think you would," I said. In fact, I didn't think he would actually touch me without an invitation. I was going to have to initiate this whole encounter.

I eyed him dubiously. It would have been harder if I found him unattractive, but the opposite was true. Still, I hadn't slept with anyone other than Neal in over eight years. Not only that, but the young man in front of me was an admitted virgin. I'd never deflowered anyone before. Everything else aside, I didn't even know where to start with that.

"Uh," I said eloquently, "do you want to sit down?"

I patted the bed next to me.

"Aye," he said with an obvious sigh of relief. He crossed the room to me, but grabbed a stool and sat on it facing me instead of sitting beside me on the bed. Once seated, he slowly and deliberately reached for my hands, giving me plenty of time to pull away. I didn't, and he threaded our fingers together. It felt comfortable, though I couldn't help but compare his hands to my former—_other_—husband's hands. Neal's had been wide and strong, with thick fingers and chewed nails. Killian's hands were long-fingered and graceful, still strong, but possessing a completely different strength than Neal's did.

"Tell me about your husband," he said as though he could read my mind. I almost jerked my hands away in shock.

"What?" I asked, my voice shaking.

"You're somewhat of an open book, love," he said with a little upward curl to his lips. "We have all night, and two more nights after that. I may not have done this before, but I know it won't take _that _long…"

He paused to favor me with a little grin before he continued in a more serious tone: "We have some time to talk—to… to get over being afraid of one another."

I blinked at that.

"Are you afraid of me?" I asked. He didn't look it. Nervous, maybe. But I suppose even if he wasn't a timid sixteen-year-old, this _was_ his first time.

He looked into my eyes and smiled.

"Aye," he said honestly. "More than you are, I expect. That's why I'm holding your hands, love… to keep mine from shaking."

I didn't believe the last part, but I squeezed his fingers anyway in appreciation of the thought.

"I think… I think it's easier to talk while we're touching," I said, feeling my cheeks pink a little. "But why did you ask about my husband?"

Was he curious about my sex life?

"I know you must be thinking of him," he said diplomatically. "How could you not, given the circumstances? I don't want you to ever feel like you can't speak of him to me. Even though I'm your husband now—and that feels strange to say, doesn't it?—I don't expect you to forget him, or even try to. If… If you loved him, then he must have been a good man."

"Yes," I said, my voice trembling. "He… _was_."

Killian squeezed my fingers.

"Then I will do my best to honor him by serving his wife," he said. He lifted my hands and bent his head, kissing each of my knuckles in turn.

I cleared my throat.

"That was a very nice speech," I said, licking my lips.

He grinned at me.

"Thank you," he said, tilting his head. "I came up with it while Liam was making toasts downstairs."

I smiled at that and then took a deep breath.

"I… I have questions," I said, forcing my voice to be steady.

"I imagine you do," he said. "God knows I do, too. I think we're both entitled to a degree of curiosity, given the circumstance."

He flashed me another rakish grin.

"What do you want to know..?" he asked. "Why I'm still a virgin?"

My mouth fell open again, but I closed it at once.

"Well, that's your business," I said quickly, looking away. My eyes landed on his heavy gold ring, lying on the bedside table where I'd set it. "Oh, I still have your ring."

I pulled one of my hands out of his and picked up the ring, offering it to Killian. He took it from me, turning it once in his hand so the fat ruby set into it caught the light. He tucked it into his pocket instead of putting it back on his finger.

"It was my father's," he explained. "Liam let me borrow it. I'll get one that fits you as soon as I can."

"It's not important," I said, feeling uncomfortable. It hardly seemed worth the effort. I shifted for a moment, trying to find something to say. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," he said immediately.

"Why did you agree to marry me?" I asked.

He leaned back and did his own share of fidgeting before meeting my eyes again.

"Before I tell you, Emma," he pronounced my name like he was naming a saint, "I must ask for one thing."

"What's that?" I said warily, feeling my defenses rising.

"Honesty," he said.

I must have flinched, because he leaned forward, his face completely serious.

"I know there are things you don't want to tell me, Emma," he said fervently. "Maybe things you _can't_ tell me—"

_You don't even know the half of it, buddy,_ I thought.

"—and I won't demand answers you are unwilling to give," he went on. "I have my own demons and secrets; things I can't say, at least not yet. Believe me when I say I understand. But when you do tell me something, let it be the truth. I promise I'll do you the same courtesy."

I could feel the truth in his words, but I chewed on my lip in uncertainty. It was one thing to ask for honesty and another thing entirely to get it—especially when my truth would surely sound like lies to him.

"We… we don't have much between us, you and I, except, I think, respect," he said, pausing for a moment. I nodded at the words he'd said. Yes, I agreed that we had a mutual respect.

"There's room in that for secrets," he continued, "but not for lies. Do you agree?"

"Yes," I said, nodding again. It seemed like a reasonable compromise. "I can give you honesty."

He nodded, too, seeming to relax just a bit.

"Good," he said. "then you want to know why I married you?"

"I am just a little bit curious," I said, making him smile.

"Well, I have several reasons," he said. "But first and foremost, I want to keep you safe from Rumpelstiltskin."

I shuddered at the memory of my brief encounter with the wild-eyed man and the state of Killian's back.

"I know what that villainous crocodile is capable of," Killian said, "and I will go to the ends of the world to protect you, love; I will keep you safe from him at any cost."

"Thank you," I said, feeling surprisingly flattered. Usually the idea of needing someone to protect me made me unhappy, but Killian's earnest desire to keep me from harm felt… _good._ "I appreciate that, but is it worth, well, marriage?"

"It is," he said. Two simple words, but the weight behind them was immense. His eyes were completely serious, and I could feel his honesty in my bones.

The moment drew long and heavy, and then Killian looked away, breaking our contact to pour wine into the two goblets set out for the newlyweds. He passed one to me and lifted his solemnly.

"To Mrs. Jones," he said softly.

I felt a thrum of panic again, but I tamped it down, raising my own glass with a trembling hand.

"To honesty," I said, and we both drained our cups.

I let Killian refill my glass, watching him move gracefully in his elaborate costume. He was clearly used to wearing it, despite the borrowed pants. It raised more questions, but I decided to stick with the one I'd already asked.

"You said you had several reasons for marrying me," I said as he sipped his second glass of wine. "Why else?"

He licked his lips before speaking.

"Life is short, and you are radiant," he said, grinning. "Perhaps I simply wanted to bed you, love."

I couldn't help but think he was trying to bait me with that answer.

"Do you?" I asked boldly.

His eyes widened fractionally, but stayed steady on mine.

"In all honesty, yes," he said. "Yes, I do."

_Yikes._

But the knowledge made me feel warm, too.

"But you wouldn't have to marry me for that," I said, mostly to see what his reaction would be.

It was worth it.

He choked on his wine, his eyes widening comically.

"I told you I'm a gentleman!" he exclaimed, clearly scandalized.

"Okay," I said in a placating tone, hiding my amused grin behind my wine glass. "I didn't mean to insult your honor."

I clearly had, and he was bristling a little bit. He let go of my hands and stood, stripping off his coat and throwing it over a chair. He paced for a moment, stretching his shoulders. He started to pull at his cravat, but then he looked over at me, as if to see if his stripping had scared me.

I made a "go ahead" gesture with my free hand and shifted my position, scooting back to lean against the headboard. When Killian's cravat and waistcoat were loose, he looked at me again.

"Come sit by me," I said, patting the bed beside me, "and tell me about… all _that_—" I gestured to his ensemble. "—Are you in the military?"

He scooped up his goblet and the bottle of wine and came to the bed, stepping out of his boots before climbing up to sit next to me. His sleeve brushed my bare arm. He set the bottle between his knees and held his goblet in his far hand, claiming my free hand with his nearer one.

"I was," he said almost wistfully, his thumb running over my knuckles. "I was in the navy—Liam and I both were—but that was a long time ago."

"You were an officer?" I guessed, and he gave me a small smile.

"Aye," he said with a trace of pride, "a lieutenant—" he pronounced it _left-tenant_, which amused me. "—Liam was my captain."

"What happened?" I asked.

He sighed.

"I can't tell you everything, at least… not yet," he said, squeezing my fingers apologetically. "But to make a long story short, we found ourselves serving a tyrant and defected."

"Oh," I said as I frowned thoughtfully. "How long were you in the navy?"

"Ah…" he said, his head tilting to the side, "that's difficult to say…"

I turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. He gave me a little smile and kissed my hand as way of non-answer. I held his gaze, silently challenging, but he refused to budge. His tight-lipped smile turned slightly patronizing.

"And where, exactly, are you from, Emma?" he asked me, cocking an eyebrow.

I frowned but got the point about secrets. Mollified, I found another question.

"Wait a sec. You're telling me you were in the navy for some indeterminate amount of time, and you're still a virgin?" I asked incredulously.

His lips quirked up again, and his eyes danced.

"If you'd seen the port harlots, love, you'd understand why I never touched one," he said, surprising me with his frankness.

I sipped my wine for a moment, composing myself.

"And… your back?" I asked tentatively, wondering how far I could push his willingness to share without reciprocation. "Why were you flogged?"

He shrugged.

"For the Dark One's enjoyment, mostly," he said, making me flinch. How could anyone enjoy inflicting such damage?

"You hadn't committed a crime or something?" I ventured.

"Oh, I'd been caught stealing," he said easily. "I was given a choice: a hundred lashes or my left hand."

I grimaced at the idea.

"What did you steal?" I asked, my voice no more than a whisper.

"Food," he said, meeting my eye for a moment. "I was raiding with Robin, but I was still new at it. They made it safely away. Only I was fool enough to get caught."

"And then they let you go?" I asked. "After..?"

"After Rumpelstiltskin had his fun? Aye," he said. "Tossed me out into the mud. I was lucky the merry men found me again so quickly."

I cringed at the thought of Killian, shirtless and bleeding, being thrown to the ground and left for dead.

"How do you know he…" I said, unsure how to word my question. "How do you know it was fun?"

"The laughing," he said in a surprisingly calm voice. "The Dark One cackled like a child with a toy as he beat me. I tried my best to stay silent, but he forced a gasp or two, and those made him laugh harder. The black knights had to drag him away when he'd reached the hundredth stroke. He would have whipped me to death, I imagine, given the choice."

"That's terrible," I whispered, feeling my stomach flip.

"Aye," he said. He finished his goblet of wine and then met my eyes with a serious expression. "So you can see why I'd do most anything to keep you out of his reach."

I felt overwhelmed at his story and his sincere concern for my safety. There were few people in my life who'd ever put my well-being before their own. Only two, in fact, and I'd married both of them.

Staring into Killian's open, honest eyes, I couldn't find any words to adequately express my appreciation for the choice he'd made to protect me.

So I kissed him.

He was timid at first, even when I took hold of the collar of his waistcoat and hauled him closer to me. But whatever had overtaken us at the wedding found us again, and the kiss deepened. Empty wine goblets forgotten, we explored one another, his fingers threading into my hair as I curled mine around his neck. His tongue darted forward to trace the seam of my lips, begging entrance that I could not deny. He kissed me with an intoxicating blend of passion and restraint, like I was something precious to be savored and preserved. When I finally drew back to catch my breath, we were both breathing hard and flushed.

"Where did you learn to kiss like that?" I asked, my voice a little thick.

"I said I was a virgin, love, not a monk," he said with a wicked grin.

"Clearly," I said, touching my own lips in awe.

"If I need guidance, I'll ask," he said seriously.

I gave a tiny nod, and he kissed me again, his fingers slipping down the back of my neck to land lightly on the top button of my borrowed gown. He paused there, pulling back far enough to ask permission with his eyes. I nodded again, biting my lip, and he claimed my mouth again, shifting to get both of his hands on my dress. He fumbled with the buttons, cursing under his breath between kisses, and I finally had to pull back, fighting a laugh at his predicament. I drew him to his feet, kissing him once more before turning around so he could attack the buttons properly. It was only then that I realized that his hands really were shaking.

It took him several tried to get the first button undone, and I grinned as I listened to him cursing under his breath. His fingers grazed my skin, leaving goose bumps as they moved slowly down my back.

"Ha!" he exclaimed with pride when the last button was finally unhooked, and we laughed together. He unlaced my corset as well, which went smoother. I supposed, as a sailor, he was used to tying and untying knots.

I stepped out of the dress, folding it gently and placed it on the table, near his coat. I untied my petticoats, too, and laid them and the corset over the dress, turning to face Killian in just a loose chemise. His eyes roved over me hungrily, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, but he stayed where he was, standing beside the bed. I went to him, and I finished unbuttoning his waistcoat, sliding it off his shoulders, running my hands along his muscular arms through the thin fabric of his shirt. He trembled under my touch. I knelt and unfastened his pants and let them fall away, leaving him in just the long, white shirt which did nothing to conceal his excitement.

He pulled me to my feet, stepping forward to embrace me, his mouth finding mine and his erection pressing hard into my stomach. I couldn't deny my own arousal. I could try to blame the wine, or the late hour, or his ridiculous good looks, but whatever the reason, I wanted him very badly.

I tugged his shirt up, running my hands across his ribs and over his chest, brushing his nipples with my thumbs. He responded by crushing me to his chest.

"Oof," I said, struggling for breath.

He let go of me at once, apologizing.

"No, it's okay," I soothed. "Kiss me again."

He did, letting his hands ghost up my back to my shoulders, where he slid his thumbs beneath the thin straps of my chemise. He slipped the fabric down my arms, stepping back far enough to let the garment slip free. Slowly, tentatively, he drew his fingers across my collar bones and down to my breasts, cupping them gently and brushing my nipples with his thumbs as I'd done his.

I tugged on his shirt again, and he let go of me long enough to help me tug it up over his head. His shoulder was still sore, and his ribs were still bandaged from where he'd been wounded several days before. I ran my fingers over his chest again, marvelling at how soft the dark dusting of hair there was.

Suddenly, he scooped me up and sat down on the bed, holding me on his lap.

"Tell me if I'm too rough," he whispered hoarsely, his lips in my hair near my ear. "Or tell me if you want to stop. Anytime before we're… _joined_… I… I don't think I could stop after that."

Instead of answering him aloud, I leaned back, pulling him down to the bed and slipping my legs around him so he was above me. I guided him to the slippery cleft between my thighs.

"Gods, _Emma_," he exclaimed in a trembling breath as he sank inside me.

"Don't stop now," I said.

I didn't expect it to last long. I didn't mind. When he shuddered and fell apart above me mere moments later, I felt like I was watching a rare, special moment, like a natural phenomenon that only happens once a lifetime. His face contorted beautifully, his eyes screwed shut as a thin sheen of sweat popped out on his forehead. His hips stuttered against mine as he spilled himself inside me. Then his arms gave out and he collapsed on top of me. I savored his weight, running my fingers along his back until his breathing slowed and he rolled off me. He pulled me with him, and it felt oddly natural for him to cradle my head on his chest. We fit well together, and most of our restraint was gone, lost in the shared excitement of exploring one another.

"Was it like you thought it would be?" I asked after a few minutes, genuinely curious.

His chest rumbled under my ear as he chuckled.

"Almost," he said softly, "I thought—Nevermind."

"You thought what?" I asked, tilting my head to look up at him.

"You'll laugh at me," he complained. I was surprised that he was still able to blush.

"No, I won't," I said. "I promise. Tell me."

He stroked my hair for a moment, considering. Then he gave an elaborate sigh.

"All right," he said, looking almost guilty. "I didn't know it happened face to face. I thought… After living on a farm—You're laughing at me!"

"I'm not!" I said, biting my lip hard to try to keep my promise. "So, you'd seen animals, and thought that was how it went. I can understand that… But you've never seen people do it?"

Despite my private room, I'd heard about some of the other sleeping arrangements, and privacy seemed like a luxury in storybook land.

"Oh, I have," he said, raising his head to look down at me. "But they were under blankets in the dark. All I could determine was the man was on top. So I knew that much."

I couldn't stop myself from snorting at that, and was rewarded with an indignant pout.

"He doesn't have to be," I murmured as Killian dropped his head back to the pillow.

His head popped back up and he regarded me with wide eyes.

"Oh?" he said, his eyebrows creeping up his forehead. He blushed again before clearing his throat. "Can I ask you something?"

He resumed idly playing with my hair.

"Go ahead," I said.

"Did you… Did you like it?" he said in a shy, quiet voice.

"Yes," I said honestly, stroking his chest.

"I… I thought you did," he said, "but Little John told me women generally don't care for it, so I should finish quickly."

I snorted again and lifted my head.

"What would Little John know about it?" I muttered. "Slower is better for women."

"I assume you'd know better than Little John," he said with a light chuckle. "I was given quite a bit of advice on the subject last night, but most of it seemed unlikely. I thought it best to use my own judgement."

I grinned at him.

"Well, you've done okay so far," I said, "but I'm curious. What other sage advice did they give you?"

He looked away and I watched his ear turn red.

"I couldn't repeat most of it, love," he said in a scandalized tone. "Besides, it's likely worthless."

I chuffed, amused at his naivete and his sense of propriety. I traced idle patterns on his chest and stomach, and his pulse accelerated under my ear.

"That's… very nice," he said, his voice catching as he inhaled sharply. "I know once is all that is required to make things official, but…"

"You want to do it again?" I finished for him, hiding my grin.

"I'd like that very much," he said.

"So would I," I replied honestly.

The second round lasted a little longer than the first, but not by much. I didn't want to bruise his fragile male ego, so I tried not to lecture him on what to do. Instead, I let him fumble through, offering the occasional suggestion, such as that he could lean on his elbows instead of crushing my chest.

Killian made love with a sort of unrestrained joy that made me think that male virginity might be an underrated commodity. He was filled with such exquisite urgency, it made me respond despite his awkwardness. He was amusingly single-minded, but he was clearly concerned for my safety, which I found irritating and endearing.

.

"Are you hungry?" I asked softly, some time later as I stroked his hair. His head was pressed to my chest, listening to my heart.

"Famished," he said. He lifted his head and gently bit my left breast, then he looked up at me. "But I need food, too."

He rolled to the edge of the bed.

"I'm sure I can find us something in the kitchens," he said, reaching for his trousers.

"I'll get it," I said, pulling my chemise over my head and grabbing his shirt to use as a robe. I was opening the door before he'd finished putting on his pants.

"Wait, Emma!" he exclaimed, "let me—"

But I'd already opened the door.

Robin and three of his merry men grinned up at me from where they were sitting near the bottom of the stairs to the attic.

"You can still walk?" cajoled one of the men. "I knew that lad didn't know how to satisfy a wen—"

He cut off abruptly when Robin thumped him in the arm, but the silence didn't last long.

"If you've worn Killian out, I'd be happy to take his place," said another of the men, leering up at me.

I'd already taken two steps out onto the landing, intent on violence, when Killian yanked me back into the room by my arm. He slammed the door shut and leaned against it crossing his arms over his bare chest.

"As I was trying to say, love," he said, his face flushed. "Perhaps you should let me."

"What are they doing on the stairs?" I demanded through gritted teeth.

"They're witnesses, of course," he said. "To make sure we've… _ahem_."

"I'm going to kill them," I said, reaching for the latch.

"Best not," Killian said with an amused grin that slowly faded to a curious appraisal. "Are witnesses not custom where you are from?"

"They most certainly are _not_!" I hissed. I crossed the room to sit on the bed, since Killian was keeping me from punishing the cat-calling brutes downstairs.

"Then perhaps you should let me handle them?" he said gently.

I frowned for a moment before relenting.

"Fine!" I huffed. I flopped back on the bed, pulling his shirt around me. It smelled nice.

I heard the door open, and then the crows downstairs started cawing at Killian. I ignored the colorful teasing, though I was amused that Killian was able to give back almost as good as he got. I imagined it was quite a gauntlet to get all the way down to the kitchen on the first floor and back while being harried by hooting cavemen. I decided to give Killian a little reward for his bravery.

I pulled the sleeves of his shirt off my arms long enough to shimmy out of my chemise, then I put the shirt back on. I tossed the chemise across the room and arranged myself on the bed, draping his shirt to best advantage, concealing and highlighting as appropriate. I'd never met a man who didn't appreciate the sight of a woman wearing only his shirt. It seemed like something that would translate even to fairytale land.

Several minutes later, the door opened, Killian shoving it with his shoulder as he backed in, his arms full of food and bottles of wine. He cursed rather creatively at the men on the stairs before kicking the door shut and taking his provisions to the table.

"This should last us a while," he said without looking at me, "I'd rather not do that again if it can be avoi—"

He dropped the bottle of wine he was holding when he finally turned to face the bed. The bottle was apparently a stout one, because there was no sound of breaking glass, just a muffle thump and Killian's sharp gasp of breath. His cheeks were already red from the assault of the men below, but he seemed to get even redder as his eyes roved over me.

He opened his mouth, but what came out was an unintelligible choking sound instead of words. I waited, biting my tongue to keep from grinning at his reaction.

"That's my shirt," he managed, stumbling over the words as if reciting some fiendish tongue-twister.

"Oh?" I said as lightly as I could manage.

"_Emma_…" he whined, looking completely wrecked.

I raised my arm and crooked my finger, silently asking him to join me on the bed.

He nearly tripped over himself in his enthusiasm to comply.

Our first two encounters seemed to have taken the edge off his lust, and so round three was something of a surprise. He approached me with deliberate slowness, mapping my body with his fingers and lips, charting my valleys and peaks. I was achingly ready for him when he pressed his lips to my ear and whispered:

"You said the man doesn't need to be on top, love. Show me?"

I arched against him and then rolled, pressing him down to the mattress and rising to straddle him. He gazed up at me with such reverent awe, like I was a goddess or a force of nature. He held my eyes with some difficulty as I sunk down on him, my body accommodating his with blissful eagerness. His face contorted as I raised my hips and then lowered them again, him mouth open in a silent O. His hands landed on my hips, and then slid up to my breasts, cupping and gently squeezing them as I continued to rise and fall above him.

I gasped in pleasure as one of his thumbs flicked my nipple. Killian quickly repeated the move, then continued to explore, chasing my sighs and moans.

"Beautiful," he murmured, stroking my skin and bucking his hips up into mine.

His tenderness made me feel giddy and light-headed. I closed my eyes and let myself ride the sensations of his touch and his words. I leaned back, putting my hands on his thighs and arching as I rose against him, moving in languid circles and figure-eights, my hair streaming down behind me.

And then all at once, I was keening, my thighs trembling as I shuddered and cried out in surprised ecstasy. Killian caught me as I fell against him, his arms encircling me lightly.

"Did I hurt you?" he gasped in a trembling voice. His fingers roved my skin gently, searching for injuries.

"No," I said dreamily, stretching.

"Are you sure?" he asked, carefully rolling me off him so he could inspect me properly for damage.

It was only then that I realized that none of Killian's hasty sexual education had covered the possibility of my pleasure. I rectified the problem, using my afterglow euphoria as armor against embarrassment. When I finished my explanation, Killian was looking at me with wide-eyed amazement.

"But it doesn't happen every time?" he prompted.

"No, not every time," I replied, amused. "Only if the man is a good lover."

"Oh," he said, his lips parting as his color rose again. He looked bashful for only a moment, before a fierce determination overtook his features.

"You'll have to tell me what to do next time, love," he said, "to ensure… victory."

I let out a little laugh, grinning at him.

"You don't need to do anything special," I said. "Just pay attention... Why wait, though? You're still ready."

"You don't need to wait?" he asked, clearly surprised. "I couldn't do it again right away."

"Well, women are different," I said wryly.

"Aye, I noticed," he said, grinning back at me. His hand came up to stroke my cheek, and then his fingers trailed down my side. "You're so… delicate, love, I'm afraid I'm going to hurt you."

"You won't," I said, "and if you did a little, I wouldn't mind."

His jaw dropped again, and he started at me in puzzled incomprehension. I responded with a wicked grin.

"I'll show you what I mean," I murmured, slipping out of his embrace and sliding down the bed.

"What are you doing, lass?" he gasped as I wrapped my fingers around him.

"Just what it looks like," I said in amusement. "Hold still."

He vocalized incomprehensibly when my lips touched him, his hands flying down to grab handfuls of the bedsheets. He did his best to keep from moving too much, but it was obviously a struggle.

After a few minutes, I started using my teeth, pressing progressively harder until he gasped again and let out a little whimper. I pulled back, looking up at him with an amused smirk.

"Did I hurt you?" I asked gently.

"A little," he stammered, trying to control his breathing.

"Do you want me to stop?" I asked, feeling wickedly powerful.

"Gods, no!" he moaned, trembling under my touch.

I obliged him, leaning forward again and alternating gentle and rougher touches until his was writhing and gasping. He threaded one of his hands lightly into my hair before he went completely rigid beneath me and then shuddered in release. I drew back when he gave a small whine of overstimulation.

He threw his arm over his face and mumbled something I didn't catch.

"What was that?" I asked, crawling up the bed to lie beside him.

He uncovered his face and turned to me, opening his impossibly blue eyes.

"I said, 'I thought my heart was going to burst,'" he said before shutting his eyes again.

I grinned in satisfactions.

"Oh, Little John and the others didn't tell you about that one, did they?" I half-teased.

"Aye, they did," he said, cracking one eyelid to peer at me sideways. "I didn't believe them."

I laughed.

He took a few centering breaths before propping himself up on his elbows to look me over again.

"If I did that to you," he mused, "would it feel the same?"

"Um, well," I said slowly. "I, uh, don't really know."

I'd been doing my best not to think of Neal, but I couldn't help it when Killian asked about that particular act. I'd been fairly naive when Neal and I'd gotten together, but there were things I'd done in high school. Some had left a bad impression. And, with half of our relationship spent with one of us behind bars, it wasn't something that Neal and I had fully explored.

Killian's eyebrows raised in speculation.

"Oh, so there is something you don't know, love?" he teased. "Well, we'll find out together, then, once I have my strength back. Sometime next week, perhaps."


	5. Chapter 5

I woke abruptly in the pre-dawn glow, shivering and rigid with terror. I couldn't recall the dream that woke me, but the plunge into reality was equally frightening. It had been possible to forget the details of my situation last night while enjoying the pleasures of newfound intimacy (and lots of wine). Now, I was alone, lying next to a sleeping stranger to whom I was suddenly, impossibly linked, in a world that was strange and unfamiliar and possibly dangerous.

I tried to choke back the sob that tore through me, but I must have failed, because the bed next to me rocked sharply as Killian leaped from the mattress, landing gracefully and spinning, scanning the room for potential threats. I saw the glint of steel and couldn't help but wonder where he'd been hiding the knife that was now in his hand.

He turned to me, finally, his whole body relaxing as he set aside his weapon and came to sit next to me on the bed.

"Are you all right, love?" he said softly, his eyes intent on mine.

"Yeah, just a nightmare," I said. "What was—"

I cut off as his fingers curled around my upper arms.

"You're freezing," he admonished. "My fault, I'm afraid… I've stolen all the blankets."

He tugged me toward the warm spot where he'd been lying, but I resisted, wrapping my arms around my chest self-consciously. He let go of me at once, frowning as he watched me curl in on myself.

"Can I help?" he said, going for a grin and not quite making it.

"No," I said immediately, and I saw his expression waver.

"Is it me?" he asked quietly after a moment, his voice tenuous.

"No," I breathed at once, hating that I'd made him feel dejected. "It's not you, not… Not really."

He searched my eyes like he was hunting for the truth.

"The marriage?" he asked. "I'll tell Liam to have it annulled—"

"On what grounds?" I asked with a snort.

"Non-consummation," he said immediately.

That surprised me.

"What? With all those witnesses?" I blurted out.

"Well, they can't know for certain, can they?" he said with a sad smile. "I'd rather be embarrassed than wed to a woman who hates me."

"I don't hate you," I said emphatically, purposefully taking his hand in mine.

He was quiet for a moment, frowning as he examined our linked fingers.

"I don't hate you, either, Emma," he said very gently. He looked up at me finally with intense eyes. "Many good marriages have started with less than that."

Slowly, he scooted closer to me, nudging me to face away from him so he could lay us down and pull my backside against his front. He wrapped his arm around me.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered into my hair. "There's two of us now."

Something about his fragile tone made me relax against him. I'd know Killian Jones for less than a week, but somehow, I felt like there'd been a Killian-shaped hole in my life before. I missed Neal, but if I couldn't get back to the real world, would it be so bad? I chewed on my lip for a moment, considering the impossible situation. Killian sensed my stress and began humming lightly, his fingers stroking my arm in a soothing pattern. With a sigh, I relaxed into his arms and fell back to sleep.

.

Some time later, I awoke again, this time to late morning sun streaming in the narrow windows. I yawned and stretched, stopping abruptly when I found Killian sitting at the little table, watching me. He was fully dressed and I was not. Despite the intimacy we'd shared in the safety of the night, I felt suddenly shy and awkward. We exchanged mumbled greetings, neither of us maintaining eye contact for more than a second at a time.

He presented me with a set of clothes that had apparently been left outside the door for me. I dressed awkwardly, doing the self-conscious dance of someone trying to put on clothes when they know someone is watching and it makes them uncomfortable.

Breakfast was almost painful, the silence stretching and contorting into a thick, rubbery cocoon that pressed on us until we gasped and squeaked under its weight.

"Do you want to get out of here?" I said once I was sure my stomach was too fluttery for any more dried meat and day-old bread.

"Gods, yes," Killian breathed almost before I'd finished the question.

We fled the room, grateful to find the stairs leading down from the attic empty of hecklers. We slipped out the back door and across the fields, climbing the hill that separated the farm from the stream, but at a different place than where the Jones brothers typically fished. We both seemed to feel better once we were under the open sky and near the water.

I sank to the grass, lying back in the dappled shade of a sapling tree, and Killian crouched nearby, leaning against a small outcropping of rock. We let out simultaneous sighs, and then looked at each other. The moment grew taut, and then burst when I snorted. He grinned, and then we were both laughing, letting the heavy cloud of uncertainty disperse.

I felt like I could _breathe_, and I shot Killian a shy smile, glad that he was able to understand my nervousness. He seemed to mirror it.

A much more healthy quiet settled over us, and I laid back, closing my eyes and listening to the water babbling in the stream.

"I hope—" Killian said abruptly, cutting off as suddenly as he began.

I cracked open an eye when he didn't finish his thought, turning to face him again.

"You hope what?" I asked gently, honestly curious.

"It doesn't matter," he mumbled, going pink.

"No, tell me," I said with what I hoped was an encouraging smile. I reached across the grass toward him. "Honesty, remember?"

He gave a tight little nod and then took my hand, squeezing my fingers.

"I was going to say…" he began, meeting my eyes, even as his cheeks went a darker red. "That I hoped your first lover was as generous with you as you've been with me… But that didn't sound quite right…"

"It sounds fine," I soothed.

"What I mean to say," he continued in a rush of words, "is 'thank you.'"

I felt my own cheeks go pink.

"Well," I mumbled, "I guess I should say that, too."

"For what?" he asked, sounding surprised.

"For marrying me," I said, "instead of…"

I made a vague waving gesture with my free hand.

"I told you last night, love—" he began in earnest.

"Yeah, I know," I said, interrupting. "Just… thank you, okay?"

He scrutinized me for a moment before nodding.

"As you say," he murmured, inclining his head.

Quiet fell again, and when it got too thick, Killian tugged on my hand. I obligingly rolled toward him, and he stretched out in the grass next to me.

"I haven't felt this relaxed since the Dark Curse," Killian said with a little sigh.

"Dark Curse?" I asked.

He took a long, slow breath. I turned my head to look at him, and I could see the curiosity in his eyes, the unasked questions.

"You don't know about the curse?" he asked very slowly, watching me with a wary expression, like he thought I was messing with him. "The curse that Regina cast to seek revenge on Snow White—?"

"_Snow White_?" I choked. I closed my eyes tight, fighting the bubble of hysterical laughter that wanted to escape my lips. _Storybook world_… It was ridiculous.

"Emma, have you been in some prison these recent years?" he asked in a strained tone.

"Um, no," I said, wanting to keep my promise about honesty. I opened my eyes and looked up into his concerned face. "But, could we pretend I was, for the sake of expediency? Just assume I have no idea what you're talking about. How about that?"

He pursed his lips for a moment.

"All right," he said tentatively. He sat up, staying close to me. His eyes searched mine for another moment before he continued. "Queen Regina cast the Dark Curse to seek revenge on her step-daughter, Snow White."

I did my best to keep my expression neutral as I listened to him.

"Revenge for what?" I asked.

"That, I don't know," he said with a little shrug.

"Okay, so she cursed Snow White—" I started.

"Not only Snow White," he clarified.

I waited for him to continue, but he seemed to be waiting for me, too. His eyes bored into mine, searching for answers I couldn't give him.

"So, she did some cursing," I prompted.

"Aye," he said with a hint of a smirk. "But the curse didn't do what was expected. From what everyone knew, it would transport residents of the Enchanted Forest-"

"Enchanted Forest?" I interrupted.

He said nothing for a moment, measuring me with his eyes.

"This realm, love," he said levelly. "This realm is called 'The Enchanted Forest'."

My stomach did a little flip. It seemed he was truthfully not going to press me, and I was grateful.

"This... kingdom?" I asked, looking down for a moment before meeting his gaze again. I was admitting my ignorance and trusting him to help me hide it.

"All the kingdoms on this continent," he said in a slightly choked voice, like I'd imagine I might say say something to someone I'd just realized was from another planet.

And maybe I was.

"Transport them where?" I asked softly. The air between us was tense and thick. This conversation was loaded, full of secrets and half-formed trust. He was offering me a lot. I knew I'd have to find a way to pay him back.

"Transport _us_—" he paused "—to a world without magic," he said, finishing his original statement.

I frowned at that. Magic? _Without _magic?

"You're saying that there is _magic_ in this world?" I asked dubiously. "Like, you mean this Regina woman cast a _magic spell_?"

The color drained slowly from his face.

"Aye, lass. There was magic," he whispered, "before the curse."

We were both quiet for a moment. I think we were both shocked.

"Emma…" he said tentatively. He licked his lips. "Where are you from, love?"

I heaved a sigh, feeling torn. He'd offered me his trust, and so far he'd been good to his word. I'd never felt the slightest hint of a lie from him once he'd sworn himself to honesty.

"I think I'm from a different world," I said in a small voice.

"That's impossible," he said gently—not incredulously, more like one might correct a mistaken child. "All travel between worlds was abolished when the curse struck."

"Well, I'm not from around here," I said a little snippily. "You _know_ that. I've seen you looking at me and thinking it."

The corner of his mouth quirked up for a moment, but he said nothing.

"You know I don't belong here," I said. I let out another sigh. "This place is so strange… It's like something from a story—like Wonderland or Neverland or—"

"Neverland," he said, his tone sharp.

"You've heard of it," I said in a rush, happy to finally find something familiar.

"Aye," he said carefully, his entire demeanor shifting. He was on edge.

Why would Neverland make him wary?

"You've read the story of Peter Pan?" I asked, "and the island where time stands still?"

"Read the story?" he echoed, his eyebrows rising in surprise.

"Yeah," I said, "Peter takes the orphan kids and they stay young forever on Neverland; the place where you never grow up."

He stared at me with wide eyes.

"_Peter Pan_ is in a story book in your world?" he asked, still clearly aghast.

"Yeah," I said, finally slowing down enough to be affected by his disgust at the idea.

"Have you been to Neverland?" he asked in an icy voice. His expression closed, becoming suspicious.

"No, of course not," I said at once. "It doesn't exist. It's… It's fiction."

His expression was still guarded. He was _scared_, I realized.

"Neverland isn't a real place," I said again, but my words were losing conviction, "...is it?"

I searched his face, and he searched mine. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision, and his shoulders relaxed a little.

"It is," he said as if the words were poison.

I felt my skin break out in goose bumps.

"You've been there," I whispered, not quite accusing him.

His eyes flashed, and then his face went neutral. He gave me what could only be described as a look of warning.  
_Okay, message received,_ I thought, _do not talk about Neverland._

"Okay, fine," I said, raising my hands in surrender. "Back to the curse, then, it was supposed to send everybody to a different world. But it didn't, I take it?"

"It did not," he said, clearly glad I'd changed the subject. "We remained here, and all magic was instantly dispelled."

"How long ago was that?" I asked.

"It was..." he trailed off, frowning. He cocked his head to the side. "It was…"

He looked puzzled by my question.

"How old were you?" I asked.

"I…"

He looked at me again, his face a mask of complete bafflement. He looked down at himself.

"I was…" he murmured, lifting one hand to scratch behind his ear. "I was ever as I am now. I haven't changed… It is like…"

"Like Neverland?" I asked.

He scowled at his lap, dropping his arm and making fists.

"Aye," he said after a long moment.

"So, there _is_ still magic," I said quietly.

Killian frowned. After a moment, he opened his mouth to speak again, but the sound of shouting from the direction of the farm drew our attention. In silent synchronization, we crept to the crest of the hill and peered down at the farm.

A small group of black knights was arguing animatedly with Marian.

I started to get up to go help her, but Killian pulled me back to the grass.

"Wait," he said quietly.

I didn't like the idea of watching instead of _doing something_, but I did have to figure Killian knew a little bit more about this world's customs than I did. We watched as Marian patiently let the black knights finish making their demands, then she called for Robin. The prince of thieves (ugh) nodded diplomatically as the knights repeated whatever they'd said to Marian, and then he fetched Liam.

The knights were clearly frustrated with having to repeat themselves again, but they spoke to Liam, who replied in low, not-quite-friendly tones. The knights fidgeted and murmured amongst themselves as Liam went back into the house for a minute. When Liam returned, with a cloak and a satchel, the knights gestured for him to go with them, and Liam complied without any complaint.

"Hmm," Killian said.

"Are we just going to sit here and let them take your brother?" I demanded.

"Oh, aye," he said. "Liam's going willingly. See, he chose his brown cloak? If he'd put on the grey one, we'd know he wished for assistance. In brown, he intends to go have words."

I blinked at that.

"Oh, well, that's actually pretty smart," I admitted.

"Aye?" he said, grinning at me sideways. "It was my idea."

"Yeah?" I said, turning toward him.

"I have all sorts of ideas," he murmured, letting his eyes trail down my body and then back up to my face.

"Yeah?" I repeated, taking my turn to look him over. He was wearing grey trousers and a blue shirt that hung loose to reveal a long strip of his chest hair.

"Aye," he said again, his lips curling upward. He stalked toward me, moving with slow deliberation. I could tell he was waiting for my rebuff—expecting my rejection—but I held my ground.

.

An hour later, we got our clothes back in order and went to the house to see what had happened. Robin was outside, fletching some arrows when we came over the hill. He hailed us and beckoned us over.

"How goes the honeymoon?" he asked with an easy smile as we got into conversation range.

"It has been most instructive," Killian said at once, making me chuff.

"That sounds about right," Robin replied before turning to me and dipping his head in greeting. "Emma."

"Robin," I replied as civilly as I could, doing my best to manage a curtsey.

"I hope you'll forgive my men for their behavior last night," Robin said. "It has been a while since we've had the privilege of hosting a wedding."

I bowed my head, mostly to hide my surprise at the apology. But I guess the stories had gotten Robin Hood's sense of honor right.

"As long as they can keep their mouths shut from here on out, I think we'll be okay," I said.

Robin let out a short chuckle.

"Some of them may require persuasion," he said merrily.

"I'm okay with that," I said, wrapping the fingers of my left hand around my clenched right fist.

Both men looked at me with surprise and then exchanged a look. I wasn't fluent in men's nonverbal communication, but it looked like Robin was giving Killian the "lucky bastard" nod, and that made me feel kinda awesome.

"So," Killian said, changing the subject. "Where have they taken Liam?"

"You saw that, then?" Robin asked, nodding to himself.

"Aye," Killian said.

"Liam's off to see the Dark One," Robin said, "in regards to… Mrs. Jones."

He inclined his head toward me again, and I felt my spine stiffen at the name.

"I thought we had a week before he intended to collect her?" Killian asked in an annoyed tone.

"It seems Rumpelstiltskin changed his mind," Robin said.

"How fortuitous that we acted with haste," Killian said, sounding as though he didn't think it was fortuitous at all. He stepped closer to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. He seemed to do it almost unconsciously.

"Aye," Robin replied. "I can't imagine he'll be pleased."

"I can't say I care about his pleasure," Killian quipped back. He gave my shoulders a squeeze and started leading me toward the farmhouse.

Inside, Marian greeted me warmly. There was no sign of the merry men. We ate a late lunch with Marian and Roland. I was surprised at the normalcy of it. I didn't feel nearly as awkward as I'd expected to.

After the meal, Roland dragged Killian away. The blue eyed man grinned and winked at me before disappearing into another part of the house, leaving me alone with Marian.

"He's a good man," she said softly. "Roland adores him."

"Hmm," I said noncommitally, my eyes fixed on the wood-grain of the table.

"You seem well-suited to one another," Marian said.

I turned back to face her, raising an eyebrow.

"You don't even know me," I said.

Marian smiled.

Robin came inside then, kissing his wife and nodding to me.

"Liam's riding in," he said.

"I'll get Killian," Marian said, standing up and striding off after her son and my… _my husband_…

It still felt strange to think. I squirmed a little in my seat.

"He's a good man," Robin said quietly, echoing what his wife had said.

I guessed he thought I was uncomfortable because I didn't know Killian well. It was a reasonable conclusion to draw, but it didn't quite cover my situation.

After imparting his sage observation, Robin went back outside to meet my new brother-in-law. I followed, unsure what else to do. Killian, Marian, and Roland came out on my heels, and I didn't even flinch when Killian stepped right next to me and put his arm around my waist. It felt good. Confusing, but good.

Other farm residents had clearly seen Liam's approach, because merry men poured out of the woodworks. A boy only a little older than Roland led Liam's horse off to do whatever people did to horses before putting them away. Stabling them. Whatever.

Liam stretched briefly before turning toward the house and the throng of us standing around in front of it. His eyes found mine, and he frowned. It was a stern, almost angry expression.

I guess he'd gotten bad news.

Robin greeted Liam, and the two man fell into step, talking in hushed voices with their heads close together. At one point, Robin's head snapped up and his wide eyes landed on me, his expression turning speculative and then guarded before he looked away.

"What's the news, brother?" Killian asked when Liam was in earshot, taking a few steps forward, dragging me along next to him.

Liam turned his frown on Killian briefly before flicking his eyes to me again and all but scowling.

"That good?" Killian said, his eyebrows rising.

"I need to talk to you," Liam growled, and I honestly wasn't sure which of us he meant, since his eyes kept flicking back and forth.

So, we both ended up in his study, with Robin bringing up the rear, mollifying the rabble that vocalized their upset and being excluded from the conclave. Killian gently steered me to a small sofa, and we sat down together, his arm still around me. His other hand landed in my lap, his fingers threading with mine. It was comforting, and that felt strange.

Once the door was properly shut, Liam turned on me, all civility gone from his expression as he strode toward the sofa and leaned in, looming imposingly into my personal space.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" he demanded.

Killian opened his mouth to scold his brother for his behavior, but I'd dealt with a lot worse on the streets both as a teen and as a bail bondsperson, so my response was instinctive and immediate.

I stood up, breaking contact with Killian and stepped into Liam's space, forcing him to step back. He was taller than me, but that had never been an issue for me. I knew how to handle myself.

"I'm the person who is about to break your face if you don't back up," I said, adjusting my posture to an open, powerful, dominant position.

Liam blinked at me in surprise.

"Now, if you want to have a conversation like grown-ups," I said, "sit your ass down, and we can talk. But don't think for one second that your tough guy bullshit is going to intimidate me."

Liam stared at me in dumb shock for a moment, and then Robin let out a choked bark of laughter.

"I believe you've upset my wife," Killian said from behind me in an amused tone. "Best apologize, or she might bite. I'd recommend avoiding that."

I ignored Killian for the moment, keeping my gaze level and fixed on Liam. After another tense moment, he drew a ragged breath and took another step back, settling into the chair I'd backed him towards. Robin came to join us in the seating area, and I returned to sit by Killian with a toss of my hair. He squeezed my shoulder and dropped a little kiss onto the top of my head.

"I apologize for my lapse in manners," Liam said as if chewing glass.

I gave him a curt nod.

"Perhaps you could enlighten us as to the happenings of your meeting with the Dark One?" Killian prompted, clearly fighting a grin.

Liam frowned again, but he complied.

"Rumpelstiltskin wasn't happy with our answer to his threats," Liam began. "When I showed him the signed marriage contract, he flew into a rage. Half of what he said made no sense at all, but what I was able to decypher was violent at best. He seems quite determined to have Emma in his custody, regardless of the cost to him or Regina. When he finally calmed down, he declared that you—" Liam finally looked at me again "—are a wanted criminal who has committed some great crime and harboring you from 'justice' is grounds for a full-scale invasion."

I was proud of myself for not letting my jaw drop.

"That's ridiculous," I spat.

"He's lying," Killian said.

"I know he's lying," Liam said, "or he wouldn't have changed his story. He could have claimed her a criminal the first time, but he didn't."

"Tell them the other thing," Robin said softly, and Liam frowned again.

"It might be nothing," Liam muttered.

"What, Liam?" Killian prompted.

"While he was ranting, the Dark One named her again, 'Emma Swan,' the name seems… important to him. 'I will have Emma Swan,' he said to me, 'the harbinger will be mine'."

"The harbinger?" I asked. "What does that mean?"

"I'd hoped you could explain that to us," Liam said, clearly unhappy that I couldn't.

"I've never heard it before?" I said. "What the hell is a _harbinger_?"

"It's similar to a herald," Killian said, his voice thoughtful, "a harbinger is a sign of something soon to come. Snowdrops are said to be the harbinger of spring. The cock's crow is the harbinger of dawn..."

"So Rumpelstiltskin thinks I'm a sign?" I asked.

"Aye," Killian said, nodding.

"A sign of what?" I asked.

Three sets of blue eyes looked at me with appraising expressions.

"That seems to be the question."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: OMG, I wrote some stuff!  
**

**Sorry about the long wait between updates. My muse and I have been super stressed. But this story is NOT forgotten!**

* * *

Liam continued to interrogate me for the better part of an hour, but he didn't get any more answers. Everything he wanted to know was either something I couldn't answer or something I wouldn't answer. Killian stepped in for me twice, which was sweet, but a little irritating. Well, the first time was irritating. The second time was useful.

"We're done," he said in a steely voice, rising to his feet and glaring at his brother. He reached for me without looking, keeping his eyes on Liam.

I took his hand and rose to stand next to him.

"This isn't over, little brother," Liam growled.

"It is for tonight," Killian shot back. He slipped his arm around my waist and led me out of the room.

I let him guide me out of the study and down the hall to the narrow stairs leading up to the attic. Once we were alone in the little room, he let his composure slip. He was bristling. He seethed and paced, wringing his hands and scowling for a minute. It was almost amusing to watch.

"You need to hit something," I said after a while.

"What?" he said, stopping suddenly, his head snapping up from where he'd been glaring at his boots.

"Hit something," I repeated. "You'll feel better."

He cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow at me.

"And how would you know that?" he asked.

"Because I want to hit something," I said. "It usually makes me feel better."

He chuffed at that, his lips curving up.

"Try it," I encouraged.

He scratched behind his ear for a moment before approaching the far wall with a determined look. He gave one of the naked wooden beams a grim look and then punched it with a quick, solid jab. It looked satisfying, and I suddenly wanted very much to join in, but I didn't want to bash open my knuckles on the raw wood. I looked around the room and found more fresh clothing for us folded near the door, including two pairs of thick woollen socks. I scooped them up as Killian punched the wall a second time.

"C'mere," I said, tossing a pair of socks at him as I slipped the others over my hands.

He looked at me quizzically (which seemed reasonable).

"What are you doing, lass?" he asked.

"Relieving some tension," I said. "Put the socks over your fists."

I had both of my hands covered by then, so I gave an experimental punch, thrusting my right fist into my open left hand. The thick wool muffled the blow nicely. I opened both of my hands and held them up for him at a good punching height, widening my stance to absorb the impact of his blows.

"Darling, are you asking me to strike you?" he asked, dutifully slipping on one of the socks with an amused grin.

"Unless you're scared," I taunted, needing this to work, needing to blow off some steam.

His eyebrows shot up across his forehead and then a grin spread across his face.

"Not hardly," he said, almost a growl. He stalked toward me, his eyes darting from my face to my hands back to my face.

"C'mon, pretty boy," I teased, "let's see what you've got."

"So, you think I'm pretty?" he said, grinning wider. "I thought you might."

"Quit stalling," I shot back.

His fist snapped forward to hit my palm, and I felt the blow even though the two layers of wool. Good. I was worried he'd pull his punches. Even still, I decided to keep up the banter.

"You call that a punch?" I sassed, giving him a sad shake of my head.

His mouth fell open, but he quickly recovered, his left fist slapping into my left palm in a tight cross.

"Ya-awn!" I said, "any time you want to actually start hitting me, go ahead."

He let out a little growl and peppered my palms with a series of crosses and jabs. I could feel it when his tension broke and he was just lost in the rhythm. My palms were stinging from the blows, despite the layers of padding.

"My turn," I said, moving my hands out of his reach and then making fists inside the socks.

Killian obligingly raised his hands, making loose cups of his palms as I had. He shifted his weight, finding a comfortable defensive stance after several minutes of being on the offensive. He flinched when my fist connected with his left palm, and I cringed at my mistake. He was still injured. I'd have to go easy on him.

Well, at least on his injured side.

I focused on his right hand, sending jabs and crosses into it in rapid succession. I found a rhythm, hearing workout music in my head, and I started bobbing and weaving like I would in the gym with my self-defense instructor.

Killian started shifting his hand, giving me a moving target. He feinted once with his injured arm, and then he popped (well, more like booped) me on the chin. I hissed in surprise and met his gaze, finding amused blue eyes looking down at me over a smug smirk.

I lightly popped him in the nose, making him rock back. His eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed in determination. His whole stance changed, and the spar was on.

I kept his injured side in mind, but I didn't go easy on him. I just aimed elsewhere.

He was quick, easily blocking most of my blows and making me scramble to block his. We each scored a couple of sound hits before he shocked me by grabbing me, pinning my arms to to his chest.

I squirmed, but he held tight, lifting me off the ground and throwing me on the bed. He stripped off the socks from his hands as he stalked toward me. I scrambled to pull the socks off my hands as well. I was expecting another assault, but when he flopped down on the bed beside me, he just tucked his hands behind his head and let out a contented sigh.

"Thank you," he said. "That most certainly helped."

He was breathing slightly fast, as was I.

"Sometimes you just need to punch someone in the face," I said, glancing at the ceiling.

He chuckled and propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at me with an amused expression.

"There are other ways to relieve tension," he said, his voice dropping to an enticing murmur.

My eyebrows popped up.

"What would you know about that?" I asked with a little snort.

"I'm rather a quick study," he said, drawing a lock of my hair between his fingers. He set the curl down on my shoulder and stroked the exposed skin there, pulling the neck of my dress aside to kiss my skin.

I found I had no argument.

.

Some time later, I opened my eyes and found him looking down at me again, his expression strangely melancholy.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

His expression cleared at once, and it looked for a moment as if he was going to try to pretend I hadn't caught him. But then he smiled apologetically.

"What?" I asked again.

He sighed before speaking.

"Is your…" he began, licking his lips and looking away. "Is Mr. Swan dead? You never said as much, but let us assume…"

"It's Cassidy," I said softly. "His name's Neal Cassidy, not Swan. Swan is my name."

A moment spread out between us before Killian spoke again.

"He's alive, then?" he asked quietly.

I nodded.

Killian hesitated before pulling me to his chest. He cradled me there like I was something fragile.

"You wish to go back to him," he whispered, his voice tentative. He didn't lift the last word in question, but I knew he wanted me to answer.

But I couldn't.

I loved Neal.

We'd fallen out of sync while he was in prison, but we hadn't fallen out of love. We'd been trying to start over when I'd fallen through the stones. I wanted to give my marriage to Neal a chance to resolidify.

And yet I couldn't deny my attraction to Killian Jones- and it wasn't just physical. There was a softness in him that called to me, but his rough edges matched mine perfectly.

I had no desire to choose between them. It felt wrong, like choosing between food and air.

"I don't know," I whispered back honestly.

I felt Killian's shudder of relief.

"We'll have to go to the palace," he said after several minutes. He let the words hang for a second before turning to look at me.

I sighed.

"We need to tell the King and Queen what we've learned," he went on, propping himself up on one elbow.

"What do you mean?" I asked carefully. I was worried that he meant _me_.

"About the Dark One's demands, for one," he said. "And about the effect of the curse, for another. I'm not sure anyone else has realized what you did about the passage of time. I don't think we were meant to. I think only you could point it out, being an outlander."

He held my gaze, giving me a little nod. I chewed on my lip for a moment and sat up. He mirrored me, sitting in front of me, our knees touching.

"You want me to tell the king about myself?" I asked after a beat.

He took my hands in his before speaking, running his thumb over my skin.

"Yes," he said evenly. "But I'll respect it if you refuse."

I let out the breath I'd been holding and nodded. Could he really be as sincere as he seemed?

"I'll think about it," I said quietly, and he smiled.

He drew my hands up to his lips and kissed my knuckles.

"Thank you," he murmured against my skin, rubbing his stubble across the back of my hand. He held my eyes, and I watched as his gaze slowly transformed from something innocent to something more carnal.

I'd be a liar if I said I couldn't feel my body responding to him—and it was just a damned look. But then he resumed kissing my knuckles, running them over his lips, which he parted to dart his tongue out and taste my skin. I might have made a noise, I'm not sure. The next thing I knew, he was gently pushing me down to the bed and kissing down my neck.

It felt like he was ravenous- like he thought I might disappear at any moment.

And maybe that was true.

I felt more than a little like the baker's wife, having an "and" moment, and I couldn't deny I wanted to savor it as much as Killian did. So I let the wave of passion overtake me and I melted into Killian's embrace, shucking my worries and doubts along with my clothing. I lost myself (_or did I find myself?_) in him, and we spent the rest of the night discovering ways to make each other gasp and sigh.

When sleep finally claimed me, my mind was blissfully pleasure-addled.

**.**

**I know I jokingly say I "run on props," but seriously, feedback fuels my muse. Please consider reviewing. I'd sure appreciate it!**


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